It’s the Grapes of Wrath this week in the countryside just north of Venice. Sparkling white wine-makers are fizzing with disgust over Paris Hilton's latest venture: spumante in a can.

Not only put a sparkling white made from Prosecco grapes in a golden can, she has named it "Rich Prosecco" and is selling it in two low alcohol fruit-flavoured varieties. Now local wine-makers in Italy are rallying against it, saying the drink is not just an insult to their high quality product but also a threat to its reputation outside of the country.

Prosecco

[praw-SEHK-koh; proh-SEHK-koh] A white-wine grape that's grown primarily in the eastern part of Italy's veneto region. Prosecco's made into lightly sparkling (frizzante), fully sparkling (spumante), and still wines. Its fine reputation, however, comes from the sparkling versions. The wines are crisp and appley and, though they can be sweet, are more often found dry. The best-known wines made principally from Prosecco come from the doc of Prosecco di Conegliano-Valdobbiadene and are generally sold with either the name of Conegliano or Valdobbiadene attached. The very best Pro­secco wines are labeled "Superiore di Cartizze" and come from a subzone within Valdobbiadene. Prosecco is also known as Balbi, Glera, Serprina, and Tondo.

2008年1月9日 星期三

A Taste for Brews That Go to Extremes

AS a life philosophy, it may not lead to wealth, happiness or old age, but for many American brewers today the motto printed on the bottle of Moylander Double I.P.A., from Moylan’s, a West Coast brewer, is a guiding principle:

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NOT THE MELLOW TYPE Beers high in hops have grabbed the attention of the world’s brewers.

Tony Cenicola/The New York Times

“If one is good, then two is better!”

Such is the ethos of extreme beers, an all-American genre in which brewers are engaged in a constant game of “Can you top this?” Whether using an inordinate amount of traditional ingredients like malt or hops, or adding flavorings undreamed of by Old World brewers, American brewers have created a signature style that beer enthusiasts seem both to love and hate.

In the last 30 years American brewers have produced exceptional versions of classic Old World styles, whether pale ales or Pilseners, porters or stouts. They’ve even resuscitated nearly extinct styles like India pale ale, now one of the more popular genres in the United States. But nothing has caught their imagination like going over the top.

Forget about I.P.A.’s, strong, hoppy brews developed by the British centuries ago to withstand the ocean voyage to colonial India. Americans are now making double I.P.A.’s, Extreme I.P.A.’s, even Unearthly I.P.A.’s.

Nowadays, the beer shelves are so crammed with brews labeled Maximus, Monstrous and Imperial that you feel as if you’ve stumbled into a file of e-mail spam.

In this world, bigger is always better, and why not? Hummers rule the road and 16 percent alcohol pinot noirs rule the wine ratings. Why not a beer like Stone Ruination I.P.A., so-called, the brewery proudly asserts, because of the ruinous effect of “this massive hop monster” on your palate. Are you man or woman enough for this beer?

Many beer lovers are aghast at the creative liberties American brewers are taking with traditional styles, feeling that the bigger-is-better principle is reducing American brewing to the equivalent of a frat party.

But to the brewers themselves, it is a matter of creative pride, not to mention patriotism.

“We’re the same country that put men on the moon, and we’re taking the same approach to beer,” said Brendan Moylan, the founder of Moylan Brewing Company in Novato, Calif. “We passed the rest of the world by ages ago, and they’re just waking up to it.”

He’s right. From Asia to Italy, brewers are trying to emulate these beers. Not content with the Moylander Double I.P.A., Mr. Moylan now makes what he calls a triple I.P.A., Hopsickle Imperial, which he said was “the hoppiest beer on earth.”

To judge for ourselves whether these transgressive beers were simply stretching boundaries in creative ways or were the doomed siblings of cars with tail fins, the tasting panel sampled 25 examples, all from American brewers. Florence Fabricant and I were joined for the tasting by Garrett Oliver, brewmaster of the Brooklyn Brewery, and Phil Markowski, the brewmaster at the Southampton Publick House, a restaurant and brewery in Southampton, N.Y.

Each of us, I think it is fair to say, came to the tasting with a dose of skepticism. The philosophy of more is better, we agreed, is generally ridiculous. Nonetheless, for many people in the beer world, the question of extreme beers is a touchy subject.

“The hoppiest beer?” Garrett asked. “It’s a fairly idiotic pursuit, like a chef saying, ‘This is the saltiest dish.’ Anyone can toss hops in a pot, but can you make it beautiful?”

Phil likened the appeal of these beers to the macho allure of hot sauces, which almost dare enthusiasts to try the hottest ones.

Meanwhile, Garrett finds it offensive that brewers use terms like double I.P.A. “It’s claptrap intended to cloud the illustrious history of the style,” he said. “It’s like calling a wine double Beaujolais — it’s an insult.”

Gee, we hadn’t even gotten to the beers yet.

Actually, I’m less bothered than Garrett by double I.P.A.’s. Europe already has a tradition of augmentative beer terminology, like bock and doppelbock in Germany, and Belgian Trappist ales, which may be double and triple.

Of course, those styles are well understood. Here in the United States, double, imperial and the rest can mean whatever the brewer wants them to mean. Certainly, too, the Old World has its tradition of huge beers. Imperial porters and stouts, barley wines and Trappist ales can easily contain more than 10 percent alcohol, roughly twice the ordinary amount.

We did not include American versions of these genres in our tasting, on the theory that they were not new stylistically. Nor did we include beers that used unusual ingredients or flavorings, like maple syrup, kumquats or whatever. Instead, we focused on beers that took existing styles and exaggerated them. For the most part, this means beers that are hoppy in the extreme.

Brewers have always used the resiny cone of the hop plant to add bitterness and aromas to beer. Hops and alcohol also act as a preservative, and you could make the case that India pale ale, with its higher-than-normal alcohol and hops content, was an extreme beer of the 18th century. So it makes sense that most of the extreme beers today are characterized by their ultrahoppiness. Of the 25 beers we tasted, at least 20 of them would fall into the category of exaggerated I.P.A.’s regardless of what they call themselves.

To carry their extraordinary bitterness and aromatic zest, these beers need a sturdy foundation, so they tend to have outsize malty qualities as well as high alcohol. They are not therefore session beers, brews that you can drink in multiple pints over the course of an evening. Still, the best versions, in which all the elements are well balanced, are highly appealing. Florence, in particular, was surprised at how many she found likable, and even elegant.

Our favorite was the robust 90 Minute Imperial I.P.A. from Dogfish Head, a beer that balances its exaggerated caramel and chocolate sweetness with a bracing bitterness derived from hops. If you sneer at the 90 Minute, Dogfish also occasionally issues its 120 Minute I.P.A., which, at 20 percent alcohol, may well be, as the brewery contends, “the biggest I.P.A. ever brewed.”

Our No. 2 beer, the Weyerbacher Double Simcoe I.P.A., seemed to embody the term “killer,” the extreme beer fan’s favorite compliment. Killer hops, killer fruit, overwhelming yet bearable, even enjoyable, because it is so well balanced.

The No. 3 beer, the I.P.A. Maximus from Lagunitas, was something of a lightweight in this crowd with a mere 7.5 percent alcohol, yet it was lively and energetic with a lush citrus perfume.

By contrast, the Gordon from Oskar Blues — the only beer in our tasting to come in a can — was practically mellow and subdued. Was that a good thing? We thought so, because the flavors were nonetheless distinct and complex.

You would not call the Victory Hop Wallop mellow, but it was fresh and delicious. And you would never call Mad River’s Steelhead Double I.P.A. or Flying Dog’s Double Dog Double Pale Ale subdued. Their signature hop aromas practically punch you in the face.

Our tasting included just a small sampling of the wide variety of extreme beers out there. Frankly, while most American craft brewers do make a version of an extreme beer, they also produce traditional styles as well.

“The extreme beers definitely get more attention,” Mr. Moylan of Moylan Brewery conceded, “but here in the brew pub, most people are drinking the mellower stuff.”

Perhaps that’s a good thing, because the brewing world is now facing an international hops shortage. No, it’s not because of the daunting amount of hops used in many extreme beers. It’s more a result of the normal cycle of supply and demand.

Overproduction of hops in the early 1990s resulted in excess supply and depressed prices, said Ralph Olson, a hops dealer based in Yakima, Wash. As a result, world hop acreage has fallen from about 234,000 in 1994 to 113,000 in 2006. It may take several years, Mr. Olson suggested, for hops production to be able to meet current demands.

Meanwhile, expect beer prices to go up. But there’s nothing wrong with that. If $10 a six-pack is good, $12 is better, right?

Tasting Report: Careful, These Are Beers That Can Bite

Dogfish Head

$3.50, 12 oz.

** 1/2

90 Minute Imperial I.P.A., Milton, Del., 9 percent alcohol

Big and robust with chocolate, caramel and balsam flavors and a

bracingly bitter aftertaste.

Weyerbacher Double Simcoe I.P.A.

$3, 12 oz.

** 1/2

Easton, Pa., 9 percent alcohol

Big and almost overwhelmingly intense yet balanced, with aromas and flavors of sweet fruit and piney hops.

2008年1月4日 星期五

Tapping into Japanese craft beers

The small brewery movement is young in Japan, and its distinctive bottlings are worth seeking out.

By Charles Perry, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer January 2, 2008

THINK of a Japanese beer: Kirin, Sapporo, Asahi. All mass-produced lagers.

But isn't there something strange about that? The Japanese are renowned for their devotion to craftsmanship and unique handmade products. Think of fresh tofu skin (yuba), or kimoto daiginjosakes, or the quest for the perfect ramen in 1986's "Tampopo."

A few have been showing up, including some excellent examples, but they've had a late start. It's not the brewers' fault. For many years, Japanese law made craft breweries illegal -- you had to make more than half a million gallons a year to be licensed.

The beers are worth seeking out for their unique flavors such as a red rice ale with a berry-like perfume or a stout tasting of molasses and soy. Most are good food beers. Hitachino's Red Rice Ale would be an excellent match for ramen with pork and bamboo shoots.

At the moment, only two brands are available in the Los Angeles area. We can expect that this is just the beginning, because there's a lot of craft brewing activity in Japan. The law against small breweries was finally liberalized in 1994.

During the next few years, hundreds of brew pubs and craft breweries opened (craft beers are called ji-biru, or local beers, to distinguish them from the giant "national" brands). Like craft breweries in this country, they're still dwarfed by the big players, but they have enthusiasm on their side.

Probably because most Japanese craft breweries are still quite small, their products aren't yet well distributed in the U.S. It might not be an accident that Hitachino and Echigo, the two brands available in our area, are produced by well-known sake breweries with established distribution channels. The sake connection may also explain why both make at least one rice beer.

An eclectic new wave

THE big Japanese brewers have always focused on lager, but the new wave, just like American craft brewers, shows more eclectic interests. The independent brewers make ales, stouts and wheat beers and experiment with wild ideas such as Echigo's tomato-flavored beer (not available here).

In particular, America's West Coast school has been influencing Japanese brewers. The brew master at Yo-Ho Brewing Co., a pioneer craft brewery established in 1996 in Karuizawa, worked at Escondido's Stone Brewing Co. from 1998 to 2001. It's not surprising to hear that, among its beers (unfortunately not available here yet), Yo-Ho makes a highly hopped India pale ale -- something new in Japan, where beer tastes incline to elegance and subtlety.

Yo-Ho brew master Toshi Ishii also seems to have picked up some of the West Coast contrarian spirit. Chris Cochran, Stone's marketing coordinator, has tasted a barley wine and a seasonal porter which, flying in the face of craft brewing's bottle tradition, Yo-Ho releases in cans. "They were wonderful," he says. "They were the best canned beers I've ever had."

In short, there's a lot of ferment, as it were. At least one of the giant brewers, Asahi, has responded by brewing a few more adventuresome beers, which it sells at a company-owned brew pub in Tokyo.

Echigo was the first craft brand to come to market in 1995. Its cosmopolitan founder, Seiichiro Uehara, had studied art history and acting in Italy and is married to a German woman. His brewery is in Niigata Prefecture, the No. 2 rice-producing area in Japan.

Niigata grows Japan's most popular rice variety, Koshihikari, and Uehara makes a beer from it.

This is an interesting choice, in light of the fact that his family owns the well-known Uehara sake company. Koshihikari is a table rice, not one of the traditional sake rice varieties. In Echigo's hands, it makes a fairly standard lager with a surprisingly intense, grassy nose.

Echigo also makes an intense stout with food-friendly notes of soy and mushrooms, something worth trying with grilled foods such as yakitori.

Three beers by the craft brewer Hitachino are fairly easily found in L.A.; another -- Hitachino's New Year Celebration Ale -- can be tasted only at Lucky Baldwins British Pub & Cafe in Pasadena. Hitachino, an outgrowth of the Kiuchi sake brewery in Ibaraki Prefecture, an urbanized area near Tokyo, started brewing its Hitachino Nest line of ales in 1996 with what it calls "a hint of our traditional sake brewing method."

There is an obvious Japanese twist to its Red Rice Ale (Kiuchi makes a sake from red rice, which has something of the same fruit-like flavor) and its Japanese Classic Ale, aged in cedar barrels in the traditional sake manner.

Hitachino's White Ale is a subtle take on the Belgian wit idea, emphasizing the fluffy yeast aroma over the wheat beer flavors. It's particularly good with sushi, but it's also delightful for drinking on its own. Hitachino beers are more widely distributed than Echigo and can be recognized by the trademark owl on their labels.

Local red rice beer

THESE beers seem better known in the eastern U.S. than they are out here -- you can see Hitachino delivery trucks plying the streets of New York City.

This seems odd, given that Los Angeles has had a sizable Japanese population for about a century. In fact, these beers don't yet seem to have made much headway in L.A.'s izakayas, though most of those homey Japanese-style pubs serve beer as well as sake.

Inspired by the Japanese craft brewing style, the Sushi Roku chain has arranged for Golden State Brewery in Encino to brew a house brand of red rice beer.

Fortunately, you can also find Echigo and Hitachino at liquor stores with a beer specialty, such as Hi-Time Wine Cellars in Costa Mesa, Wally's Wines & Spirits in Los Angeles, Cap N' Cork in Silver Lake, Vendome Liquors in Studio City and Beverages & More stores.